Thirds Return
by grim grace
Summary: Benjamin Coffin III wants his family back. But do the bohemians want him? Months directly following RENT told from Benny's POV. All Canon Couples  and NO Benny/Mimi
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. **

**This is going to be my first RENT multi-chapter work of fiction, and will follow all canon couples. I need to make sure that I've got all RENT stuff accurate so any sort of feedback is hugely appreciated. **

**.:.**

So, Collins' girlfriend had killed his dog.

With each night that Benny stayed up tossing and turning becoming longer and longer, it was only depressing that he could no longer blame the dog's noise. With the dog barking every hour of the night it was easy for him to pretend that the sounds were the reason for his continuous insomnia. Something should have come up when Alison fell asleep every evening without a problem—but he'd always assumed that because she'd had Evita since she was nine she'd just gotten used to it.

But then Collins' girlfriend had gone and killed the dog.

And he still couldn't get to sleep.

It was two am. That's two o'clock in the middle of the morning. He lay on his back, half the blankets off him, leaving his bare chest exposed to the air. He would have been cold if Alison wasn't resting her head right beside him, providing a completely natural source of heat.

If he had been back in the loft he would have been up. When he couldn't sleep there (which was a rare occurrence because in those days he was working almost continuously on his feet and by the time sleep came he greeted it kindly) he would be up and about, doing all the things he had no time to do in the day.

It wasn't like he was stretched on time, anymore, and there was really no work to be done that he hadn't done already, or that couldn't be done the following day. But was there really anything more tiring that being forced to stay still when all you wanted to do was move?

It wasn't worth the fight. He'd found that out in the early days, when his insomnia had first hit and he'd blamed it on the dog. Waking Alison up before her nine hours were done spelt trouble for everything—his marriage, his work, his timing. Generally, his entire life was better if Alison wasn't tired.

The loss of Evita had obviously affected his wife more than it had him. The first emotion _he'd _felt upon hearing the terrible news was nothing but sweet, _sweet relief. _Alison had broken down in hysterical sobs and buried her face in the crook of his neck and it wasn't as though he was a terrible person. He's helped her, consoled her—but he knew better than to wake her up now.

As if on cue, Alison rolled slightly, removing her weight from him and freeing him from her embrace. Taking the opportunity as soon as it opened, and endeavoring to just be quiet so to keep Alison asleep. He slipped off the bed smoothly, straightening his boxers and creeping out of the room. The carpeted floors meant that his feet didn't make noise as he left the room. He pulled the door as close to closed as he could without making a sound and progressed into the room.

He found himself in the same place he usually did these sleepless night, as he sat on the leather couch of their living room. The material was cold against his legs and back, but he ignored it, reaching for the draw beneath the coffee table and pulled out the video that lived there.

He stared at the tape for a moment, turning it in his hands as he watched the cold black square. Making his mind up, he slipped the tape into the input slot (a gift from his brother in law, who also showed him how to use it). Doing as he had been instructed, he plugged in the infinite number of wires that he needed for the image to show up on the large, box machine that this latest generation seemed so obsessed with.

Flashes of his old life were quickly exhibited to him. Mark had filmed this footage as when they had all moved into the loft. Benny watched as shots of a happier him laughed while carrying furniture up four flights of stairs. Roger, Mark and Maureen were laughing with him—_hell, they were even enjoying his company—_and there were occasional shots of Collins, before he left. April could be seen in the background sometimes, but she and Roger had been a personal couple (so personal that no one had noticed that she'd introduced Roger to drugs until it was too late to wean him off them).

He swallowed dryly.

He'd muted the television, a precaution for Alison, but he knew the music that Mark had put to it. One of the songs that Roger always used to go on about being a piece of brilliant music. Something he wanted to emulate—music that he idolized. Benny didn't know who sung it, but he knew the tune and the beat, and in the silence of the night he tapped his foot along to the sound in his mind.

"Benny?"

He was unable to hide the flinch before he froze, hearing Alison's fatigue ridden voice from behind him. He twisted in the couch and looked at her nervously, pushing himself to his feet quickly.

She was standing, in her expensive silk night gown that probably cost more than he'd ever seen before falling in love with her, watching his quizzically. Her blonde hair was ruffled—the result of moving around in her sleep, but her face was as immaculate as ever. She'd taken the time to slip on her fluffy slippers, and was rubbing her eyes with her left arm while her other arm moved up to her hip.

"Why're you up?" She enquired tiredly, frowning.

He hastened for an explanation, but was well aware of the still running tape behind him. Her eyes flicked between him and the screen as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Benny ran a nervous hand across the globe of his shaven head and watched her nervously.

"Look, Al," he began. "I know that—I'm sorry for waking you up. I just, I couldn't sleep and—"

She shushed him.

He paused, frowning, as she moved around the side of the couch and stood beside him. He turned, watching her as she moved, until they were both facing the television.

Benny watched as a shot of a younger him and Collins flashed on the screen. Collins had swung a hand around his neck, and was hanging off him laughing gleefully. Benny cringed away from him, but was laughing as well. With his free hand he snatched the beanie off of Collins head and dangled it out of his reach.

The scene changed.

"You watch this tape a lot, don't you?" Alison asked, sinking onto the couch. Benny sat down beside him and braced his hands on his knees.

"I, uh, I didn't think I'd wake you up." He admitted with a slight smile.

Alison rested a calm hand on his forearm. "You think I wouldn't notice you get out of bed at two o'clock every morning?" she laughed airily. "Give me more credit than that, sweetie. I've gotten used to sleeping next to you."

Benny smiled at her.

They were silent, as the film continued. There were a few more shots of the group of friends, and one rare slow shot of Roger and April strolling down a dirty street, holding hands and grinning at each other.

"They were your friends?"

Benny nodded his head slowly, a bit confused about how quiet Alison was, despite the fact that he'd interrupted her sleep pattern. "They were." She didn't respond, and continued to watch him, obviously waiting for more information. Once he'd caught on, he obliged.

"Uhm," he said, leaning forward. He quickly stopped the tape, pausing on Roger's and April's faces (their bright smiles the results of drugs more than anything). "Mark is the camera man," he began to explain. "And that's Roger. We used to share a house with another guy—Collins."

He played the video again, waiting until Collins reappeared on the screen. He stopped the video again, and the image began to shake slightly. Pausing wasn't good for the tape, and he didn't want to damage it. He glanced at Alison and she was frowning.

"Who's the red head?" She asked, reminding him to continue explaining.

He nodded. "That's Roger's girlfriend, April. She—she, uh, died. Just before I met you, actually."

Memories hit him quite quickly after that sentence. He could remember meeting her (after being called in to give a local's perspective on how to revolutionize his home district) and she'd been his everything. A woman like _her, _showing interest in someone like him? It was unheard of, and he wasn't going to let her get away.

And then April found out that she had AIDs. Her suicide promptly informed Roger that he too was afflicted with the disease and then all anyone could focus on was Roger and making sure that he didn't follow April and that he got off the drugs as soon as possible.

But life went on. And Alison was still there and Benny couldn't be expected to give her up just because of this. He tried to be there for Roger, but someone had to pay the rent in Mark was only following his artistic dreams and Collins wanted to stick to his anarchist principles (and everyone knew that Maureen only did stuff for attention, not cash).

Alison seemed to sense that April's death was something that Benny didn't really want to talk about, and instead reached forward to play the tape again.

The couple watched the rest in silence. It wasn't a long recording—only about five minutes from start to finish, but as Benny watched it (for the hundredth time) it seemed longer than anything he could remember. All he could focus on was Alison's hand softly rubbing his own as she simply watched.

Once it was finished, there was a pregnant silence.

Then Alison took a deep breath in.

"You miss your friends."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement that proved that she understood why he'd been watching this video at two am in the morning every night for the last since Halloween. Benny let out a dry laugh, glad he could finally talk to her about it.

"I miss having friends who don't hate me."

Alison was silent for a moment. Then she spoke again. "Is this because of the message you won't erase from our answering machine?"

The message had been sent on Christmas Day (which was only two days ago, if he really thought about it). They'd been doing presents with Alison's brother on the UES (the Upper East Side to the uninformed masses) at the time the message had been recorded.

"_Hey Benny, its Mark. Uhm, we've found Mimi. She's alright, and we're looking after her. Uh… so, I just thought you're like to know. Uhm… don't come by or see her or anything because Roger's got a bit, well… yeah. Um, bye…" _

Again, Benny ran his hand over the globe of his head before nodding slightly. "Uh, yeah. Mimi is—uh, she got sick. And she was missing for a while." He didn't need to expand on that. Alison knew about Mimi, mostly because he'd done a lot of unofficial searching for her in the months between Halloween and Christmas.

He clearly wouldn't have to worry about that anymore.

"I could collect their rent this month," Alison offered. "If you like?"

Benny shook his head quickly. "No," he said, "I'm not a coward, and I won't… I'm their friend, even if they're not mine."

Alison hastily backtracked. "I didn't mean—"

Benny hushed her, resting his hand on her knee and rubbing her leg reassuringly. "No, I know you weren't," he said with a smile. "I just mean that I don't want them to start hating you because they hate me."

Alison smiled slightly, resting her hand on his. "I'm sure they don't hate you," she started, interrupted by Benny's scoff of disbelieving laughter. "_And if,_" she continued strongly, "they do, then you find a way to make them realize that they're being foolish."

Benny was silent. Alison let out a sweet sigh, and stood, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of his head. "I'm going back to bed," she announced softly. "I have work tomorrow. Wake me up like this tomorrow and there'll be hell to pay." She smiled again, proving she was only (slightly) kidding, and then walked quietly back to their room.

Benny reached towards the television, and as he packed up the tape he thought about what Alison had said. Was there really any way to make the guys know that he hadn't change? He was still Benny. He was still their friend and there had to be a way to make them know that.

He was still thinking as he slipped into bed with Alison minutes later. He reached towards her still-not-quite-asleep body and pulled her to him, pressing his front against her back and closing his eyes.

For the first time since October, Benny slept for five straight hours.

**.:.**

Making his way into Westport Corporation the next morning, Benny had the game plan laid out ahead of him. He'd pressed his suit and arrived as normally as he would have any other day, but the briefcase that he held wasn't filled with just business papers as they would have been. Inside, was all the information Alison and he could dig up in her personal files about the corporation's properties this morning. This trip to work was to create an explanation for his boss (and father-in-law) and get the information that they couldn't get at home.

"Good morning, Mr. Coffin," the secretary (a young blonde whose name was Stella) said with a bright smile. Still typing with her right hand, she lifted her left to move the mouthpiece of the black phone she was speaking into away from her mouth. "You're right on time. Mr. Grey has you scheduled for the next fifteen minutes."

Benny smiled at her and proceeded to make his way through the large mahogany doors that held the oversized office of his boss. Knocking quickly, he opened the doors and slipped inside, smiling as he saw his grey haired investor.

"Good morning, Sir," he greeted him, emulating Stella from moments ago. "Did you have a nice evening at the theatre?"

Ever since his long courtship of Alison, Benny had made a point to know what Mr. Grey was doing and how, just to impress the man. Now that it was actually his job, however, he was being paid for coming across as a good son-in-law.

Unfortunately, Mr. Grey didn't look pleased.

"Benjamin," he said slowly, upon recognizing who it was that had entered his office (as though he didn't have a personal secretary to announce every person who came into his office before they did so). "You're here. Take a seat."

Instantly recognizing the tone that this conversation would take, Benny dropped his smile. Lowering his chin to his chest and looking to the floor, Benny moved forward and took the seat that Mr. Grey was offering him.

"Do you know who I had meet me at the theatre last night?" Mr. Grey rasped, raising an archaic eyebrow at him.

The sentence made Benny flinch. He had been hoping it was a work related problem, but if something work related had intruded on the time Mr. Grey took for personal matters it was his ass. It seemed that Benny wasn't going to start off his plan on a good note, unless he was incredibly quick on his feet.

Still, what could he really do to fix it without knowing what would happen? "Who did you meet, sir?" he asked, swallowing to hydrate his suddenly dry throat.

Mr. Grey let out a smile that cracked parts of his lips. "Mr. Tate, Benny," he said slowly. "I ran into Mr. Tate last night at the theatre."

This latest piece of information sent Benny's (relatively sly) mind into overdrive. Instead of wasting time panicking, he quickly considered all the options that he had at this point and made a decision concerning his approach to what was now a delicate situation.

Mr. Collis Tate was a young British business man who'd recently arrived in New York with the seemingly obvious motive of buying out all the slums and transforming them into high rise condos. Unlike Mr. Grey, Mr. Tate didn't have any employees (or son-in-laws) with soft spots for tenants who didn't pay their rent, which meant that the competition was getting steeper and steeper every day.

Apart from the obvious conflict in the professional business, at twenty-seven, the billionaire Mr. Tate was also a relatively insufferable human being. With arrogance that rivaled even the largest movie star and cash to substantiate all his crude, false claims, a person was unable to spend more than five minutes with the man (boy) without wanting to clench their fist and punch him in the face. (Except for women, that is—and only the cheap ones—who supposed that 'mistress' was the highest they were going to get in this world).

Benny made his decision quickly.

"And what did _Mr. Tate_ have to say to _you_?" Benny enquired. Having lived with the man's almost constant presence for over a year now, Benny knew exactly how to play Mr. Grey to his best ability. It had been his initial game plan when all he'd had on his mind was the loft and its occupants, but it wouldn't abandon him now with these new complications. With a heavy emphasis on Mr. Tate's name and a light laughable sound ending his sentence, Benny effectively conveyed the message he wanted to.

Mr. Grey smiled, hearing the sound. He relaxed a bit, and sat himself down in his own chair. He was a graying (ironically enough) man who had remained at a steady height of five foot seven for his entire life. He hadn't stayed quite as constant around his waist, however, and he now needed a walking stick to support himself as he walked. But his smile, despite his terrifying image, was a nice smile and with it, Benny relaxed as well.

"He's an irritating little boy," the old man sighed. With his words, Benny had implied that Mr. Tate wasn't worthy to speak to him, which had softened him enough for him to calm down. Just as Benny was about to smile with him, the smile fell from the old man's features. "But he's a dangerous one. He asked me about the performance space that we have been kind enough to loan to the homeless people of New York."

Benny swallowed.

That wasn't the news he'd been hoping for, but he could certainly make it work for him. If he could twist his initial plan around and make Mr. Grey believe it was his idea there was still hope for salvaging his friendships with the bohemian believers.

"That's what I was here to speak with you about, sir," Benny said, turning the conversation away from Mr. Tate and instead directing it to a solution. "The Performance Space that the protest stopped us using for six months."

Mr. Grey scowled. "What were you here to say about it that I don't already know? He certainly was quicker about it than I thought he'd be but doesn't that just prove that he's an arrogant little—"

"What does?" Benny interrupted bravely. "Sorry, what's surprised you, Sir?"

Mr. Grey surveyed him with angry eyes. "I know that I'm old, Benjamin," he said slowly. "But I'm not senile. Those papers you have in your briefcase—Mr. Tate had the decency to forewarn me about his attempt to buy the property from us, and I'm afraid that if we don't get those damn people out of there then we'll have to sell."

Benny swallowed, digesting this new information. Right, so he hadn't really seen that coming, but didn't this help him?

While thanking whatever god he believed in, Benny sat himself down with his Boss and smiled.

"Don't worry, Mr. Grey, I have a plan."

**.:.**

**So, there's your first chapter. Hopefully your hate for Benny hasn't kept you away. I decided that I'd really like to write a follow up and have it be from a unique perspective. I was also kind of intrigued by Benny and his relationship with Alison because we don't hear much about it. I haven't seen the play in over four years, so as of this point I'm working mostly with the movie and Google for the facts that I can't remember. Otherwise, I might put my creative liberties to use **

**Speaking of creative liberties, in this fic I'm going to follow the idea that Benny's and Mimi's relationship was three years ahead of her relationship with Roger (as the film did). My reasons for this basically concern the plot that I've got in my head, so I won't explain, but I hope this doesn't bother too many of the die-hard RENT-heads out there (if anyone's actually reading this :P) **

**Hopefully you're intrigued enough to stick with this fic, even if you don't like Benny that much. While it is from his perspective, it really is about the next year for the bohos, with Benny an observer. **

**Please review, and (get prepped for shameless plug) please check out my other Mark-centric one-shot 'Five Stages'. I haven't received any feedback and I'd really love to hear thoughts about it. **

**Cheers. **

**G **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. **

**.:.**

With the plan cemented and ready to go, Benny made his prompt way from the office to the subway. It was a half hour ride to the loft by subway, but it was more convenient than the half hour wait for the driver followed by the hour stuck in New York traffic. And there was no way he was taking his own car—he could only too clearly remember what had happened last time.

Before boarding his train, however, Benny moved to the first payphone he could see and, after paying the machine, dialed Alison's work phone.

"West Corporation, Advertising Devision, Diana Sanders speaking, how may I direct your call?" the chirpy voice of his wife's coworker greeted him on the other end of the line.

"Hey Diana, it's Benny—can I snatch Alison for a sec?"

Diana greeted him again after he announced himself and they had a brief conversation about trivial things before she passed the phone to his wife.

"Hey, honey, how'd it go?" Alison asked.

She worked in the Advertising section of the West Corporation. Alison works mostly with billboard advertising, as well as print advertising and Westport owned advertising air space. Benny quickly filled her in about the events of his meeting with her father before getting to the good part.

"In the end he agreed," he said with a grin, even though she couldn't see his face. "I'm in the subway right now—I'm going to catch a train to the loft and try to get through to them."

He couldn't see Alison's face, but she sounded alright. His old friends had always been an interesting topic between the two of them. She'd grown up elite, and for some reason he'd always assumed that his friends weren't worthy of her time. (Hell, it'd taken a while for him to figure out that _he _was worth her time, and he still wasn't sure). This had led to many an argument about he assumed she was too precious and how she wasn't a doll to be protected.

But she had seemed supportive enough last night, and she didn't sound unhappy now. So Benny pressed on. "I think that even if just the business side of this plan works, then at least they'll be more stable."

Alison sighed into the receiver. "Don't make this about business, Benny," she reprimanded him lightly. "You know why you're doing this, and so should they. If they think that this is all about the money again, then you're going to get nowhere with them."

Benny frowned slightly at her words, but she continued before he could protest.

"You be the brave man I know you are, and you walk in there and you say you're sorry. Even if it's totally stupid, you need to show them that you're willing to make an effort to get them back, alright?"

Benny smiled again. "What would I do without you?" he asked her with a grin.

He heard her let out a light laugh. "Crash and burn, sweetie." She said with a grin. "I've got to get back to work, Hun, but call me when you get a chance. Did you want me to make dinner tonight?"

Benny quickly declined, not really wanting to make her work too hard if there was a good chance he'd miss it. "Don't worry about it," he told her, "I'll get take out here. I might be home a little late though."

"Sounds fine, sweetie. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah," he said. "Love you."

"Love you too."

As he hung up, he was smiling to himself. Making sure to not look too mopey (and therefore open himself up for a mugging from guys who thought he couldn't take it) he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench and quickly hopped on to the pod that had just arrived. But it wasn't as though he didn't have anything to smile about.

Alison was amazing. She was a confident, self-assured woman who didn't rely on her father's money to get her through life and had married him despite him so obviously not being worthy of her. She was happy to let him reconnect with his old friends, and she was happy for him to work for her father, even if she didn't really like it.

She was really, honest-to-god the same woman he'd fallen in love with when she'd insisted she help him doing whatever trivial job her father has insisted he do when he wasn't anything to either one of them.

As the train jolted, however, signifying to him the start of the half hour trip to the loft, Benny remembered what he'd been going to say to Alison on the phone.

What did she mean 'all about the money _again'_?

**.:.**

"Fuck."

Other than wincing at Mark's always colourful language, Benny wasn't quite sure what to do when the door to the loft slid open. He resisted the urge to say something sarcastic, knowing that he was no longer in a position when he was allowed to do that.

"Uh, Mark," he began, somewhat unsteadily, "hey."

Mark wasn't really listening. Instead, he pulled the door hastily close again. Just as Benny thought he was slamming the sliding door in his face he stopped. It appeared he'd just been moving the door to make sure that no one else inside the loft could see who was at the door. He pushed his body into the small space he'd left open, blocking Benny from the entrance to the loft.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark demanded quickly, adjusting the glasses on his nose. Benny noticed that he wasn't holding the camera that Benny could have often mistaken for a third hand.

"Where's your camera?" he asked quickly.

It wasn't the right question to ask.

"For fuck's sake, Benny," Mark hissed, keeping his voice low. "If this is another one of your stupid publicity stunts then I swear to god, I'll let Roger have his go at you right now. I can't deal with this—"

Benny held up his hands in a defensive gesture, taking a step backward. "Mark, calm down. It's not about publicity. I was just curious."

Mark fell silent, and narrowed his eyes. He examined Benny in silence for a second and then leant back into the room. For a terrifying moment Benny assumed that Mark was going to follow through with his threat and let Roger have his go at him, but instead he called out "there's a delivery downstairs, guys. I'm just going to grab it."

There was a chorus of "kay's" and "right's" and one distinctive, "why the hell are you telling us?" from Maureen, before Mark moved back outside, rolling his eyes. Pulling the door close behind him, mark ushered Benny out into the hall.

"Why are you here Benny?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Benny took a deep breath. Where his plans were flawless with Mr. Grey and his family, they usually always fell through when he was around his old friends. It probably had something to do with the fake representation of himself being a huge illusion that every single one of them could see through with effortless ease. No matter what it was, the evidence was clear to see.

His plan to put a stop to Maureen's first protest had been a failure—but had he really tried to make that happen. It was true that he'd failed when he decided (with a lot of thought) that taking all their stuff was a good idea, and even stupider when he messed with Roger and Mimi by returning it.

So, really, all that was left was how to approach the new bridge mending tactic he'd come up with (this time in a combined effort with his intelligent wife).

He'd tried to figure out how to do it on the subway on the way here, and after drawing blanks the entire time; he'd decided that it was obviously just come to him in the moment.

Well, it was the moment.

And he certainly didn't feel like he was about to get an epiphany any time soon.

"Uh…" He made a long, confused noise.

Mark rolled his eyes, let out a derisive string of cuss words under his breath and shifted his weight with agitation.

"Look,' he said, "I don't have time for this." He said, with more conviction that Benny had heard Mark speak with in a long time. "Mimi doesn't want to see you—and even if she did, _in a completely platonic way,_ now would not be the right time."

Oh. Right.

They thought he was here for Mimi.

"I'm not here for Mimi," Benny hastened to explain, deciding to not let his curiosity about her state change the ultimate reason for him being here. If this worked, then he would be able to know how Mimi (and everyone else) were doing the without having to pry the information out of them. "I'm here because something's happens at Westport—and it's bad."

Mark's eyes widened, while his brow furrowed and his face contorted into the amusingly out of place look of panic Benny could recognise anywhere. But it seems that bad news from Benny can't be trusted and the look quickly fades.

"Are you going to lose some money, Benny?" he asked with false sympathy almost drenching his words. "Trying to save your own ass again?"

Benny managed to control himself and not clench his teeth or fists. After all, this inane stubbornness was one of the reasons they'd been friends for such a long time. They'd managed to share a house amongst five people and hadn't killed each other. How was it that with space, everyone was angrier?

"No," Benny said, "that's not what this is about. But, please, let me tell you. Just… hear me out for five minutes?'

**.:.**

Five minutes later, up in the loft, with four accusatory faces glaring at him (well, three, really. Collins, Mark and Maureen were definitely not happy to see him, but Joanne seemed rather indifferent) Benny was suddenly not quite so sure his idea that they hear him out had been a good one.

"This better be good, Benny," Maureen growled, and despite her stature, Benny swallowed. Anyone who knew Maureen knew better than to underestimate her.

"It is," he said, trying to convince himself, as well as the others. Apparently, they didn't buy it.

"You don't sound convinced." Collins growled.

Benny looked to Mark. "Why do I have to do this here, again? Couldn't we have, I dunno, eased them into it?"

Mark simply glared at him. "You've yet to ease me into this secret news of yours." He said with an indifferent shrug. "And would you rather I wait until Roger and Mimi get back?"

Benny nearly asked where they were. Nearly.

Saving himself from what would definitely become a large argument about why he had no damn right digging about in Roger and Mimi's business, Benny cleared his throat and thought to the plan. Thought to the plan that was hopefully going to save his job and his boss and more importantly, heal the old friendships that he'd already lost.

"You guys know how Westport owns the rights to the performance space that Maureen does her work in, right?"

As he'd expected, there was a chorus of groans as his audience realized he was going to be talking about the performance space again. "Haven't we done this already?" Joanne groaned dramatically.

"Dude," Mark caught his attention. "If I'd known this was about that stupid performance space then I'd have just let Roger go for you."

"It's not _stupid_, Mark," Maureen growled at her boyfriend. "And Benny, if you try for that space again, the protest will be even worse—with or without the cops."

Unable to help himself, Benny threw Maureen a withering glare. "If you don't listen to me now," he reprimanded her, "then you'll be the one being protested about."

Again, there was uproar. For the first time, Joanne spoke, raising an angry eyebrow and demanding "did you just threaten my girlfriend?" Mark and Collins were angry too, no doubt about the subject matter and the way that this conversation was taking place.

Hell, they were probably angry that this conversation was taking place at all.

Funnily enough, whenever these sorts of situations arose in the past, it had always been Benny who fixed them. He was a quiet man, by nature, who's always thinking mind had brought him to the top. He fell back to this position now, holding up his hands.

"Please calm down and let me explain," he pleaded with them. "There's a new competitor in town. He took notice of your protest and more specifically, Westport's failure to take the performance space." Benny took no notice of Maureen's smug look, but made a point to watch when he wiped it off her face. "He's made a bid for it, and there's a good chance he's going to get it."

Maureen scoffed loudly. "Right," she drawled. "Benjamin, if we can stop you, what makes you think we need your help to stop this guy?"

"This guy isn't like anyone you've met from Westport, Maureen." Benny said, managing to keep calm. "He's British for one," he joked.

There was an awkward pause, and Benny cleared his throat.

"He's young, he's successful and he always gets what he wants. He's been knocking down and rebuilding huge blocks of New York real estate and selling condos for over ten times the properties original value." He tried to explain.

"So?" Mark said, "We'll hold another protest."

Benny sighed, momentarily wondering if Mark's difficulty with blindly following any suggestion of Maureen's had lessened when she dumped him for a girl. "You don't understand. This guy is popular. He knows how to get into a community and convince them that it's better for them. As soon as he's done, he tears them out and dumps them on the street. He's a developer, and he'll do anything to get his hands on that space—especially if it means showing up our company."

When explaining it to Benny, Mr. Grey had been far more fluent than Benny was being now. But it seemed, in this situation, specific words were required. And he wasn't getting them out properly.

Maybe he was just a bit too worried about what time Roger would be getting back. That was a confrontation that Benny wouldn't mind saving for later.

Trying to push all thoughts of his very angry old friend, Benny focused on the task at hand.

"This guy is not just an old man that's interested in just property investment. He's a young man, who gets what he wants, and I guarantee that if you hold any sort of public protest, he'll turn it around on you and have you out by morning. He's done it before, and he can do it again."

There was a silence after he finished this time, as his old friends digested this new news. Maureen looked as though he'd just offered her a challenge, and was already calculating a way to get out of it. He could just imagine all the amazing, stupid ideas she was concocting in her strange mind. Hell, she'd managed to make a nursery rhyme riot raging last time. There was every chance that he was just underestimating her again. Maybe she'd be a strong opponent for the young Mr. Tate.

Joanne was watching her girlfriend with an apprehensive look. Apparently she was thinking exactly the same thing that Benny had been. When she wasn't out and about, flirting up a storm, there was something frightening about a Maureen who was putting her scarily creative brain to real use.

Mark looked to be frowning—the amusing panicked look settling in for the long run now. Again, he straightened his glanced, before swallowing. He had found his camera and, in an effort to retain some semblance of understanding, had turned it on to record the entire event.

Collins was silent as he took in the news.

Then Mark, making the decision, looked to Benny.

"What's your plan?"

**.:.**

**I know that it's still very Benny centric at this point, and that's probably putting a lot of you off of continuing to read. We're going to get into the individual plot lines soon—I don't intend for this fic to be too long (fifteen, sixteen chapters or something). And we'll see some Roger/Mimi stuff next chapter. **

**Please review with all the constructive advice you can cram into those review boxes. **

**G**

**PS. Writing Benny is really hard. Any pointers? **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. **

**.:.**

"Hey, sweetie," Benny murmured into the phone, ignoring the eyes that he could feel burning into his back as every other person in the loft watched him. "It's me."

Alison seemed somewhat relieved to hear him on the other line. "Hey," she said brightly. "How is it going?"

Benny cleared his throat nervously. The entire space had quieted to listen to this phone call. When he'd nervously asked if he could use the phone, they'd first said no and he'd been sorely tempted to throw his land-lord power over them. Realizing that such an action would be rather counterproductive, however, Benny had just sighed and said he'd walk downstairs.

Apparently it was a test or something because then he was being pushed towards the phone and told to call Muffy.

He'd really have to teach them to stop calling her that.

"It's going well." He reported, not sure how much he could say with these eavesdroppers. Realizing that that too would not help his cause if they found out he was lying about Alison's involvement, he fixed himself. "I told them and they're prepared to hear out the offer. Don't tell your dad anything yet, though, because they haven't heard the proposition yet and they may very well say no."

Glancing to the side, he watched as Mark's eyebrow quirked upwards, with the revelation that Alison knew all about where he was and what he was doing. Maureen was still watching with narrowed eyes, while Joanne had clearly leant her head back to have a rest. Maureen's hands slowly rubbed at Joanne's hand, but other than that, all her attention was on this phone call.

Collins was lounging on the one person couch, legs up over the side while he watched the exchange with a wise air of observation.

"You know I'm not asking about the business, sweetie," Alison said, sounding a little odd as she responded.

Benny smiled to himself before he could help it. "I know, sweetie," he responded. He saw out of the corner of his eye as Mark's eyebrow rose further and he heard Maureen's giggle of glee. "All I can say is that I haven't been pushed off the fire escape yet, so hopefully I'm okay."

Again, he heard Maureen's skeptical snort.

"We wouldn't throw you out the window, Benjamin," she said. "We'd be much sneakier than that."

Benny swallowed and focused his attentions on his wife's voice. "I'm glad to hear it," Alison said warmly. "I can hear some of them in the background. Which ones are there?"

Benny looked around the room as though he was checking again. "Uhm,' he replied a bit hesitantly. "Mark, Collins, Maureen and Joanne."

"You told Muffy about us?" Mark enquired upon hearing this. "I mean, you wasted her time with our introductions."

Benny flushed for a moment, hoping Alison didn't hear the comments, or her unpleasant nickname. Ignoring Mark, he turned his back to them and talked directly to the phone. "Alison?" he checked, to make sure she was still there. Quickly consulting his watch, he said "I'm not going to make it home before at least ten o'clock. Did you want me to bring you anything home?"

Maureen made mocking cooing noises in the background and again, Benny flushed. He pressed the phone closer to his ear, hoping that he could block out the noise.

"Don't do that, sweetie. I'll probably be in bed by then—I have a seminar in the morning. You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow, yeah?"

Maureen's noises were getting louder.

"Yeah sure," he said distractedly, trying to ignore Maureen.

"Okay. See you tomorrow. I love you."

"You too." Benny replied, not finished speaking before the phone hit the handle. "Maureen what the hell?"

Everyone turned glares to him and Benny reminded himself that he was in enemy territory. But he was here to help her, and she was going to insult his wife while she could hear every word? Was that really what his friends were?

"Back off, Benjamin Coffin," Maureen warned him. "You're the one who went and married her."

Rolling his eyes, Benny moved away from the phone and went to rest on the cold window sill. He grimaced as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

They had told him to postpone telling them about his proposal while they waited for Roger and Mimi to get back. Collins and Joanne seemed to at least believe that his intentions here were in their best interests. He was convinced that Maureen felt the opposite, but wasn't sure about where Mark stood. At this point, he was hoping that Collins and Joanne could represent him when Roger returned and refused to listen to a thing that Benny told him.

Which was, incidentally, what they were waiting for.

Making some sort of immature point about how they were a family and a team and he clearly wasn't a part of it, Mark had refused to hear any of Benny's business proposal until everyone was present. Unfortunately for the part of Benny that had been hoping for someone else to calm Roger before the confrontation, no one seemed to be willing to do that for him.

The sound of the door sliding back made Benny jerk, and he quickly directed his gaze to the door. Sure enough, Roger's tall frame entered, and, underneath his arm was—

_Mimi? _

She was tiny—frail and pale and almost instantly thoughts of Roger's anger fled his mind. What had happened to her? Had she seen a doctor yet? Was she going to be okay? Oh, god, had she gotten something? Was it the AIDs? With the questions flying through his head, Benny didn't really notice as Roger caught sight of him, stopping dead and staring.

There was a pregnant pause, in which Benny attempted to make his mind stop questioning things and focus. Roger was her, _now_ and he looked angry. This was beyond a business deal now. This is where things got heated.

(Only now? a sarcastic voice in Benny's mind scoffed. He silenced it.)

For another second, Benny and Roger just stared at each other, with Mimi flicking her gaze nervously between the two. Roger's left hand had clenched into a fist, but his right arm—the one around Mimi—was just as gentle as it had been when he was walking her in the door.

Another moment of silence, and then Roger moved.

Embarrassingly, Benny flinched.

While Mark and Collins smirked watching this, Roger didn't seem to have noticed and instead had turned to Mimi. "You taken you're AZT, babe?" he asked her softly, only audibly to everyone else because of the strangled silence.

Mimi shook her head.

Roger smiled at her. "You go lie down," he told her. "I'll grab it for you."

Mimi smiled gratefully as Roger helped him to his room, the two of them ignoring Benny's presence entirely. The door to his room had long since gone—something Benny, as the landlord, should have fixed years ago (if they'd been paying rent)—and had been replaced by a large sheet of canvas. Pushing it aside, Mimi hobbled inside, while Roger remained outside.

In complete silence, the guitarist walked to the bathroom, extracted the pills he needed and walked to his room. He disappeared for a moment, giving everyone in the room time to exchange nervous glances and letting Benny contemplate just running for it now, before returning.

He watched Benny with cold eyes.

"Why're you here?"

This couldn't be the Benny that Mark had been threatening him with. Roger had always thought about what he was doing but he was a performer. A musician, and a specifically impulsive one at that.

"Business," Benny replied, as if on autopilot. He flinched, hearing his own answer and shook his head. "No—that's not… I'm here to help you with a problem."

Roger didn't react. Physically at least—he remained still, unblinking as he surveyed him. Benny only just noticed the movement on his neck as he swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was tight.

"And what problem is that?"

This time, it was Benny that swallowed. His throat had suddenly become stupidly dry, as he nervously watched the song-writer. "We were waiting for you and Mimi before I explained." It seemed that that inspiration wasn't as good an idea as it had been before Roger's threatening presence had only been feet away. Benny shifted slightly from where he leant against the loft's windowsill.

There was a sound from the other room—Mimi's room—the sound of things falling from other things and coming to land on the floor with a soft clutter. Suddenly oblivious to Roger and his threatening presence, Benny stood, eyes widening in concern and instantly made to move forward.

"Fuck," Mark exclaimed standing and quickly blocking Benny's path. "What the hell did I say, Benny?"

That brought him back to reality. Benny jolted slightly and looked at Mark incredulously. "You said she was okay." He said accusingly. "You told me she was okay and I didn't have to worry. Why would you lie?"

"Because it was none of your business." The meek sound came from the doorway, and everyone turned to see Mimi had opened the flap to Roger's door and was frowning at him. She looked particularly frail leaning on the weak structure of the door and Roger quickly rushed forward to support her.

"You told him?" Roger said accusingly, glaring at the back of Mark's head.

Mark flinched before turning. "He wouldn't stop coming. It was a six second message at _most_ and I told him to leave us alone."

"Oh, _clearly_," he said, sarcastically gesturing at Benny, who had obviously not done as Mark implied.

Mark made an impatient noise, but their argument was cut off when Mimi swooned a bit, falling forward and only barely catching herself on Roger's arm. His other arm was instantly at her side, holding her up, all thoughts of Benny vanishing again. Shaking, she pressed her hand flat against Roger's chest and smiled to herself before turning to Benny.

"You didn't need to know, Benny," she said, the effort of merely talking clearly exhausting her.

Roger quickly took over for her. "Everything she needed she can get from us. She doesn't need your _money."_ The way they said it implied that it was money that was dirty. Who were they kidding? Money was survival and with it you get to the top. Without it you stay in a loft, not paying rent, with barely enough money to pay for their AZT let alone commodities.

But this was a battle he wouldn't win. Or, at least, not yet.

"Listen," Benny said, taking a trusting step backwards to show that he didn't need Mark acting like a body guard anymore. "What I have to tell you is _important. _Even though I'm not happy, I'm not here because of that phone message."

His gaze lingered on Mimi for just a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Roger to notice and shift the two of them so that he was also standing ahead of her—separating her from Benny even further. He moved forward, still holding her steady as he led her to the couch. He didn't drop Benny's eye until they reached the couch, when he turned back to Mimi.

The transition on his features was instantaneous. The clear stubbornness that Benny had come to assume was the only expression he had left vanished, replaced by sheer, open concern as he lowered her onto the soft seat. He touched her as though she was the most delicate thing in the world and it wasn't until she was still and seated on the couch that he let her go (with one hand. The other stayed wrapped around hers when he straightened and turned to once again face Benny.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Benny took a deep breath and, upon reopening them, refocused on Collins, where he stood with Joanne. Mark, recognizing this effort on Benny's part (thank god) relaxed and let himself fall back into the couch, beside Mimi and ignoring Roger's stoic position. "So, what's the problem with the performance space?"

Before Benny could respond, Mark had continued, noticing that his best friend looked a bit confused. Filling Roger in, Mark explained about Mr. Tate and the problem (as much as he knew about it at least) before settling back to let Benny have free reign of the explanation.

"My investor came to me with troubling news this morning," Benny said, adopting the persona he used when giving presentations at Westport. Frowning at himself, he thought to what Alison had said. _Don't make this about business_. But Benny was a business man. He hadn't necessarily dug himself into a hole yet. "It concerned the performance space and I realized that I had to warn you guys about it before someone else tried to take it from you."

"Before you could, you mean." Maureen put in, before he could continue.

Benny sighed. "This isn't about business for me, Maureen. Since your protest, my investor has lost all interest in taking the space."

"What do you call him when you're not at work?" Collins enquired suddenly.

Taken off guard, Benny was silent for a moment. "What?"

"Your _investor. _What do you call him when he's over at your house for dinner?"

Benny swallowed. Mr. Grey had always been Mr. Grey, and by the time he could have been just a member of Alison's family, he was already cemented as Benny's top boss. And, truth be told, while Benny interacted with both Mr. Grey and Alison almost twenty four hours a day, the time that the two of them shared was extremely short. It wasn't as though they didn't get along. They just didn't have the time.

"Mr. Grey," Benny responded bluntly.

Collins snorted at that response and let his head loll back onto the couch. Maureen and Mark quickly followed, and even Mimi cracked a slight smile. Roger sniggered slightly with all of them. The only one who didn't seem to understand the intense humour in him calling his father in law by title was Joanne, who was infinitely more mature than the rest combined.

And she had evidentially been focusing on other things.

"If Mr. Grey's lost all interest in the performance space, then how does he know about the developments concerning other buyers?"

Damn lawyer.

On the other hand, her expertise would give his plan instant trust if she liked it. Maureen would listen, Collins as well. Mark, if anyone, appreciated the reality of a law degree. Mimi would listen, but Roger wouldn't listen to a thing. Still, Collins, Maureen and Mark were a start.

"Mr. Grey—" they all sniggered "—has all the potential investments that he's interested in, or ever been interested in monitored. And when he realized that Mr. Tate was involved he obviously sent someone to put a stop to it."

There was, again, uproar.

"You're so _full _of _shit, _Benny," Mark groaned, pressing a hand to his head as though he has a headache. "This is all about you're fucking money."

"It's not me." Benny said quickly and quietly. "I've been promoted since you last saw me. I don't handle those areas anymore."

Roger let out a scoff. "Oh, congratulations. Glad you don't have to do the dirty work anymore."

Benny rolled his eyes. "I'm _here. _This isn't about my job, guys. You needed to know, and I came up with a way to work this for you, and against Mr. Tate."

They were silent, eyes narrowed, while they watched. But they were silent still, and waiting for him to continue—which, Benny inferred quickly, meant that they were actually listening for once.

"I spoke to my _inve_—Mr. Grey, and we agreed on how to tackle this problem from all angles. He doesn't know that I have a close relationship with you guys"—there were a couple of sarcastic coughs from around the room that made Benny cringe—"but my idea covers everyone. Westport is happy and you guys are happy." He could instantly sense that they were about to again accuse him of only being here for business, so he quickly said. "_You guys get to keep the performance space." _

Whatever they'd been expecting, it wasn't that, and there was only a stunned silence to greet his statement.

Maureen, ever the performer, recovered first.

"You're giving us the performance space?" She echoed incredulously, frowning skeptically at him. "Just like that."

Benny felt his smile slip onto his face before he could help it.

"Just like that."

There was another silent pause.

Mark cleared his throat to break the silence and frowned slightly before speaking, contemplating how to respond. He pulled out his camera and wound it before speaking and then cleared his throat again.

"_Close on Benny_, our ex-roommate whose desperation for money and prestige led him to abandoning his friends and family. Benny has returned, with a seemingly miraculous offer that will apparently satisfy all parties." He narrated.

Benny sighed, and looked directly at the camera.

"If you let Westport buy the space, we can name one of you placeholder, and you'll effectively own the right to do whatever you like with the space." He declared.

Marks previously eloquent narration transformed into an odd '_urh_' noise as Maureen jumped up and stalked forward quickly. Stopping only inches from Benny, she lifted an accusing finger up to Benny's eye line.

"You better not be messing with me, Benjamin Coffin. What's the catch?"

Benny smirked. "No catch," he said smugly. "Of course, you have to be willing to share the space with the company for fundraisers and other official functions, but for the most part, you're free to do with it as you wish."

Maureen studied him with calculating eyes. "Profit?" She suddenly said.

Benny smiled. "You get thirty percent."

"Forty."

"Thirty-five," Benny countered.

Maureen grinned to herself, moving to his side and hooking her arm at the crook of his elbow. "Well then, Mr. Coffin, lead the way."

**.:.**

**Reviews please? **

**G **


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